Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Lennon
It's times like these I wish my dad was still here so I could tell him exactly how fucking stupid he was. What the hell was he thinking? Out of all the ridiculous conditions he could have shoved into his will, he chose this. Coach the Vadena Cardinals. An all-male NHL team.
Easy.
Except nothing about this is easy.
Not when I am a woman, let alone an Omega.
These men are barbarians. The second I stepped into the locker room, every conversation stopped.
Thirty pairs of eyes snapped toward me with varying levels of surprise, curiosity and outright disbelief.
Something tells me it’s not the fact that I’m their late coach’s daughter that has them staring.
No, I can already tell most of them see an Omega as nothing more than a warm hole to fuck.
Fresh off the ice, with sweat still clinging to their skin and towels hanging around broad shoulders, some of them don’t even bother hiding the way their eyes drag over me, looking at me like I'm a gift wrapped just for them.
Fresh meat for them to sink their sharp, brutish teeth into.
God, I hate it.
Feeling vulnerable isn’t something I’m used to anymore.
I’ve spent years walking into courtrooms where people listen the second I open my mouth.
I’ve gone toe to toe with judges, pissed off attorneys without batting an eye, but standing beneath the scrutiny of thirty hot-blooded Alphas and Betas with the smell of sweat and adrenaline thick in the air around me, I feel horribly out of place.
I want to throw up.
To turn around and walk the fuck out of here.
To get back on that goddamn plane and return home, back to the job I know I’m good at, where people see me for my mind before they see me for my designation.
But amongst the absolute clusterfuck of a life upheaval, there is one thing I know for certain.
Dad didn’t raise a quitter.
He knew exactly who I was when he put this bullshit clause in his will.
Knew I’d curse him. Knew I’d question every decision that led me to this moment.
And…he knew I wouldn’t run. Because I love this game just as much as he did, and I need to remind myself of that, nerves be damned.
I need to keep focused and carry out my duty.
Get my head in the game. So if these men are waiting for me to break, they’re going to be disappointed.
I refuse to let a man, let alone an Alpha, watch me squirm.
To force me to back down from a fight, one that I know I will win in the end.
Squaring my shoulders, I force myself to meet their eyes one by one, silently telling them to try me.
Reminding them through just a look what it means to cross their coach.
If they valued their careers, they’d fall in line, because Gilmores don’t quit.
Don’t budge. Not until the last fragment of air leaves our lungs, and we hang our skates up for good.
And when my gaze falls on one set of eyes, I almost gasp.
Sasha Volkov.
I may not have met the Cardinals’ star defenceman, but I know enough about him.
Dad made sure of that. Even after my career took me West and life grew too busy for me to keep watch on all the moving pieces, I never stopped keeping tabs on the team.
And Sasha Volkov isn’t just another player.
He’s the player. The backbone of this franchise.
The captain. The kind of man kids grow up idolizing and analysts speak about like he’s already earned his place amongst the immortals.
He’s the kind of talent teams spend decades searching for and fans spend generations talking about.
A once in a lifetime player who carved his name into the ice in a font no one else can recreate.
But the man staring back at me looks nothing like the smiling photos online.
No. The blue eyes burning into me tell me a completely different story.
It’s not the awareness I felt the second I saw the seven-foot giant of a man.
God knows someone that size is impossible to ignore.
It’s the heaviness lurking behind those ice-blue irises that catches me off guard.
Even seated, he’s enormous. Broad shoulders stretched beneath his training shirt, tattooed forearms crossed and flexing beneath the flow of the fluorescent lighting.
Dark hair still damp from the shower, cut short to his scalp at the sides.
Every defined line of him seems tense. His jaw is locked, shoulders practically touching his ears, and unlike everyone else, he isn’t smiling.
If anything, he looks…wounded. Almost angry.
Like he’s forcing himself to stay seated.
Did he and Dad have a particularly close relationship?
Were they friends? Maybe losing Dad hit him harder than the others.
Because whatever emotion is brewing behind those eyes, it doesn’t feel like skepticism I’m seeing around the rest of the room.
It feels much deeper than that. More personal.
And for some reason I don’t understand, the look on Sasha Volkov’s face makes my chest tighten, like my heart is in a vice and I’m working overtime for every breath I take.
He’s drop dead gorgeous, that much is true.
Maybe in another world, I would find him absolutely breathtaking.
But I can’t seem to skim past the tension carved into his face, the anger he wears like a second skin.
Whatever is brewing behind all that Alpha potency he’s got going on, it feels far too personal to belong in a room full of strangers.
Me being the stranger.
I force myself to look away from the giant defenceman and recognize some of the Cardinal veterans in the crowd.
Alphas that were just starting out when my dad finally retired eight years ago.
They smile at me now, bringing some kind of comfort after being derailed completely by Sasha’s intensity.
Returning their smiles, I clear my throat, finally remembering that they’re all waiting for me to say something.
“Thank you, Clive, for the introduction. As most of you know, one of the conditions tied to me inheriting the Cardinals was that I coach the team for a season. And I know exactly what some of you are thinking. That you’re all screwed and a woman has no business standing in this room.
But let me—” I trail off, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me.
I force myself to breathe through it, refusing to let the tears burning behind my eyes make a mess on my first day.
They’ll eat me alive if I don’t show them I’m worthy, and I can’t let that happen.
“Let me let you all in on a little secret. Don’t let the dress fool you, boys.
I eat hockey for breakfast. I’ve seen the best of them and the worst of them fall to the ice and rise to greatness since before I could walk, and I promise you this.
You won’t find anyone more committed to this team than me.
It’s in my blood. Just like I imagine it’s in yours.
” I’m going for the fucking Oscars today, because I don’t feel nearly as confident as I sound.
“And I’m making you all a promise right now.
” I look around the room, inwardly cursing myself at my word vomit, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
“By the end of this season, we’re bringing that Cup home.
For Coach. For ourselves. And for every asshole out there who thinks they can use our grief and vulnerability as a weapon against us.
” I point towards the Cardinal crest painted proudly on the floor.
“So tell me, Cardinals…” A grin tugs at my lips, my chest tightening as I search the room and their faces, surprised when I see excitement there.
“Are you with me?” The room erupts. Players launch to their feet, fists pumping and shoulders slamming together hard enough to shake the lockers.
“Fuck yeah!”
“Let’s bring it home!”
The noise soars around me, and I couldn’t hold back my smile if you paid me.
“We get out there and remind this league exactly who the fuck we are,” I yell over the chaos.
Another roar shakes the room, and for the first time since Dad died, hope blooms inside my chest, which immediately evaporates when my eyes land on the broody defenceman, still seated in his chair, those ice-blues fixed directly on me.
His cold stare sends a chill down my spine.
It’s unsettling, the way he watches me. Not with curiosity, or amusement.
It’s almost like he’s searching for something.
Like he’s trying to figure me out before I’ve even had the chance to prove myself.
To rip back layer after layer of tough exterior, before exposing the vulnerable flesh beneath.
To break me open. Hell, he’s doing that now and only with his eyes.
But the fire that burns bright inside me can’t be put out by the likes of him or anyone else, for that matter. That fire belongs to me, and me alone, and he’s going to have to do better than that to break this Omega down.
Bring it on, Alpha. Unable to stop myself, I shoot him a wink. His expression doesn’t change. If anything, his blue eyes darken. And suddenly, I have the unsettling feeling I’ve just made a deal with the devil.
I collapse into my armchair, exhaustion finally catching up with me.